signal_to_noise raze this is the sound of someone asleep at the wheel. no nervous banter to cut through the din. no needles to suture the gown you were baptized in. just the hiss of dead air. absent music, you make your own out of metal and wood and move to the rhythm of your body's laboured breathing. with nothing to shrink from, you forget to turn the radio off. so when the station that's gone dark lurches back to life five hours later, it scares you half to death. a woman with a voice you'll never match up with a name groans over a robotic male chorus. makes you wanna get down. raise your hands above your head. watch me. 221117 what's it to you? who go blather from